Rika hums, the air buzzing with excitement. A bee flies past and Rika nearly falls back. She's not allergic, but she might as well be considering how afraid of them she is

"I wonder where Bunker is. Probably off doing fuck all..." Rika carefully picks up the length of her cassock, traveling across the crunching snow untill she makes it to the wood of her cabin porch.

She sits, smoothing out the wrinkles in the red, fabric belt she wears over her cassock as she tries not to overheat. It may be winter, but the layers are still warm. The cult grounds had a lake nearby, which trapped heat in the summer and released it in the winter. It sometimes made the temperatures all wacky.